


Here Comes Revenge

by jnic84



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Minor Character Death, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jnic84/pseuds/jnic84
Summary: Summary: Rosita may have tried to kill Negan, but you were the fool who gave her the bullet. (This will be a series of one shots.)





	1. Here Comes Revenge

1/1

 

You had seen Negan beat two of your friends to death, and even then he never showed a hint of true anger. He had laughed, taunted, and threatened, but he was a man in control. But this Negan, whose face was contorted with rage as he roared as loud as thunder? This man was furious and you felt fear like you had never felt it before.

Rosita, slammed onto the ground with a knife pressed to her throat, eyed him defiantly. 

You wanted to tell her to look away, to show remorse. Even if she didn’t mean it, at least Negan might show her a small bit of mercy. She remained insolent, uncaring of her fate.

But if there was one thing you had learned about Negan it was that someone was going to pay for her attempt on his life, and it wouldn’t be Rosita. 

Rick made Negan angry and Abraham died. Daryl lashed out at Negan and Glenn paid the price. Spencer was lying in a heap at Negan’s feet, and you knew someone else would likely join him.

“This little bad boy made from scratch?” Negan’s bemused voice left you trembling. He was more in control now, more focused, and it was terrifying. “Look at those crimps. This was homemade.”

Your heart began to beat frantically in your chest. Rosita’s rebellious glare never faltered.

“You may be stupid, darlin', but you showed some real ingenuity here,” it almost sounded like a compliment. Maybe it was, but compliment or not it wasn’t going to save her from Negan’s wrath. 

“Arat, move that knife up out on that girl's face. Lucille's beautiful, smooth surface is never gonna look the same, so why should yours?” Rosita didn’t flinch. The rest of the Alexandrians gathered sucked in a breath.

“Unless...” Negan said, considering, “Unless you tell me who made this.”

Your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach.

You knew when Rosita came to you, begging for your help crafting that single bullet, that it had been a terrible idea. You let guilt drive you to accept her demands. She made it clear, she wouldn’t survive long after shooting Negan but she didn’t care. She wanted him dead and that was all that mattered. You couldn’t blame her, everyone wanted to see Negan pay. 

But now Negan wasn’t dead and you were all fucked. 

“It was me,” Rosita swore, “I made it.” Negan smiled, and it was a grim sight to behold.

“You see, now I just think you're lying,” he drawled, shaking his head. “And you lying to me now? Such a shame. Arat's gonna have to cut up that pretty face,” he warned, and Arat pressed the knife into her cheek. “One more try.”

“It. Was. Me,” she bit out, leaning into Arat’s knife. She was practically daring him to call her bluff.

He did.

“Oh! You are such a badass!” His laughter did nothing to relieve the tension. “Fine. Have it your way.” You knew nothing good would come of this. “Arat...kill somebody.”

Rosita was screaming “It was me!” while everyone else cried out a horrified “No!” but when the moment was over Olivia was dead and you were in shock.

Olivia was dead because of you. Because you helped Rosita, because you made that damn bullet, because she refused to rat you and because you were too scared to step up.

“We had a deal!” Rick’s angry shout brought relief to some. He was your leader, he would know what to do. You felt no such solace.

“Rick! Look, everybody, its Rick. Ah, your people are making me lose my voice doin' all this yelling,” Negan crowed. You couldn’t even look at him anymore, instead your gaze turned to Rick. The devastation on his face was too painful to see and your eyes fell to the ground.

“Rick... how about a ‘thank you’?” his comment was met with an incredulous glare from the sheriff. “I mean, look, I know we started this relationship with me beating the holy shit out of your friends, and because of that, we're never gonna sit around and braid each other's hair or share our deepest, darkest secrets, but how about a little credit? I just bent over backwards to show you how reasonable I am.” Rick looked unimpressed.

 

“Your kid -- he hid in one of my trucks and machine-gunned a bunch of my men down,” Rick turned to Carl in shock and dismay. “…And I brought him home, safe and sound, and I fed him spaghetti.” Rick didn’t even know how to process that news, none of you did. 

“Another one of your people -- well, he wanted me to kill you and put him in charge. I took him out...for you,” Rick’s gaze fell on Spencer’s crumpled form. 

“And another one, here—she shot Lucille,” Rosita, lying prone on the ground, met his stare with a fathomless expression. “…Trying to kill me just now, so I gave you one less mouth to feed. And by looking at her -- that mouth did some major damage.” Olivia was dead and he was making fat jokes. You could barely stomach the sound of his voice. “Now, personally, I wouldn't have picked her to be the one to go, but Arat –I don't know—didn’t trust her.” 

Negan’s flippant attitude was too much for Rick to take. “Your shit's waiting for you at the gate,” he snarled, “Just go.” 

“Sure thing, Rick...” Negan agreed deceptively fast. “Right after I find the guy or gal that made this bullet.” You felt the urge to vomit, but fear made it impossible to do anything but shake. “Arat?” Negan’s bodyguard lifted her gun once more as you tried to force you lips to move. 

“It was me!” Tara’s desperate cry was the last straw, you could take no more. 

“No, it wasn't,” you took a hesitant step forward, voice strangled. “It was me,” you admitted, Rosita looking on in shame and dread. “It was only me.”

Negan sauntered toward you, allowing himself a long, calculating look at you. He reached your side, leaning in to study your face and cocking his head to the side curiously. “You?”

He sounded skeptical, and the tiny smirk on his lips told you how little of a threat he believed you to be. 

You took a deep breath, meeting his eyes reluctantly. “I only needed one spent casing, powder, a funnel for the powder—” you listed off shakily and his smirk began to fade.

“I believe you,” he stopped your rambling, voice dark and hinting of awful things to come. You both stared at each other. You had no idea what he was thinking. He took a long breath, gripping Lucille tightly, and you prepared for his wrath. “Lucille give me strength.”

His whispered plea caught you off guard.

“I'm gonna be relieving you of your bullet maker, Rick,” Negan’s words were for your leader but his eyes never left yours. The thought of going with Negan, of what he might have in store for you, sent of shiver of panic through your body. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, you broke the stare. He appeared pleased at winning that little stand off.

‘I’ll be taking her and whatever you left for me at the front gate. And however much you scavenged,” Negan warned, turning to Rick and leveling him with a terrifying glare, “it's not good enough, because you're still in a serious, serious hole after today.” 

Suddenly there was a gun pressed into the small of your back, Arat daring you to move. Negan gripped your arm tightly, looking to his men, “Let's move out!”

He was dragging you towards the gates. You weren’t fighting him, there was no point, but he kept up a fast pace that left you struggling to catch up with him.

You could hear Rosita screaming in the background for him to take her, to punish her, but Negan never hesitated. 

One of the saviors opened the passenger side door to the truck as he neared and he practically threw you inside. His rage, which he had tried valiantly to mask earlier, was beginning to show through.

The door slammed behind you and you tried to right yourself as best you could as Negan rounded the hood to the driver’s side door and climbed inside the cab. His own door slammed and quickly enough the truck’s engine came to life. He didn’t look at you once, just rolled the window down and barked “Fucking move!” to his crew before flooring it out of Alexandria. 

The ride to the Sanctuary was a long one. An hour in, with your body pressed into the door as far from Negan as possible, you suddenly felt his eyes on you.

Negan scoffed as you ignored him. “You’re either brilliant or a fucking idiot,” he mused, chuckling enigmatically. Your eyes flicked to his face, but he remained too difficult to read. “It was a hell of a plan,” he admitted, lips turned up in a near grin. “But your girl fucked it up. Big mistake. And now you’re gonna pay.” 

You swallowed nervously and he snorted. “Nothing to say?”

“Nothing that would matter,” you replied quietly. 

“Smart girl,” he sneered before turning his attention back to the road.

The gates of the Sanctuary were lined with men, all heavily armed. You wondered once again how your group thought they could go up against the saviors and win. There were so many of them, and Negan had now left Alexandria weaponless. It seemed a hopeless cause. 

The truck stopped inside the walls and before you knew it Negan pried your door open and roughly pulled you out of the cab. He didn’t say anything to his men, who eyed you threateningly as Negan began to drag you alongside him.

Negan stopped in his tracks at the sight of Dwight and his drawn expression as the blonde made to greet him. You were able to just barely keep yourself from running into him. 

“What the fuck happened now?” Negan growled and Dwight fidgeted.

“Fat Joseph is dead,” Dwight revealed, and you could feel Negan’s grip on your arm tighten.

“How?” Negan demanded to know.

“Beat to death,” Dwight grimaced. “And—uh—Daryl’s missing.”

This time you couldn’t stifle a small cry of pain as Negan’s grip created unbearable pain. You winced when Negan’s attention was brought back to you. The uncontrolled fury was back. 

A man was dead and Daryl was missing. A part of you hoped he managed to get away. Another part of you knew that if he was gone, all of Negan’s wrath would fall on you.

“Get a fucking crew together and look for that sneaky sonofabitch,” he ordered. Dwight nodded feverishly and took off before he could anger Negan further. “Simon!” he called, and soon enough his right hand man was jogging over to his side. 

Negan paid him no mind, turning you to face him and pulling you sharply to him and gripping your chin tightly. 

“Your people just keep letting you down, don’t they, doll?” he sighed mockingly. “Your girl can’t shoot for shit. Your boy took off. And they left you here. With me.”

You knew you needed to stay calm, but your body was in a frenzied state and kept forgetting to breathe under his intense scrutiny. You didn’t even notice Simon’s smug grin. 

“I guess we’ll see how strong you really are,” Negan considered, tracing the curve of your jawline with his fingers. “See how long it takes to break you. And you will break, I can promise that,” he added with a sinister smile. “From here on out, darlin’, you’re mine. Better start getting used to that.”

You wanted nothing more than disappear. Instead, you found yourself thrust into Simon’s waiting arms.

“Put her in the hole,” Negan said gruffly, and Simon grinned eagerly. 

As you were being lead away, Simon giving you a jarring push every now and then, you tried to ignore the feeling of Negan’s eyes watching your every move. You had much bigger things to worry about.


	2. High Cost of Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Negan promised to break you. You’re bent, but you haven’t broken.
> 
> Second story in Revenge Series.

1/1

 

You weren’t sure how long you had been locked in ‘the box’, as Simon charmingly referred to it.

Days would go by without any contact from the outside world. You were just left to lay there in the dark, curled in on yourself to try and stay warm. You were left in your pants and tank top, but the fabric was thin and the room cold, especially at night.

If solitary confinement wasn’t enough to drive you crazy, the noise just might. The music was muffled, playing a few doors down from you, but the unmistakable tune of “Easy Street” seemed to play on an endless loop. You felt terrible for whoever was being directly subjected to it.

You heard the lock on your door turn, and you shifted carefully on the floor. Your hip ached from the cement. When it finally opened, you were forced to shield your eyes from the light, too painful to endure after so much time spent in the dark.

A shadow came over you and you squinted up at Simon’s face. He was smiling widely, a paltry excuse for a sandwich in his hand.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve eaten,” he mused, holding it just out of your reach. “I bet you’re hungry…”

Two days at least had passed since they’d bothered to feed you. You were starving, but stubborn enough not to admit it.

You met Simon’s gaze with a challenging glare, and he only laughed at your obstinacy. 

“Look kid,” he rolled his eyes, “being a pain in the ass isn’t going to get you out of this mess any faster. So maybe swallow that fucking pride of yours. You want food, you know what to do.” You bowed your head, jaw tight and eyes watering. 

“Please,” you bit out, “may I have it?”

“What’s that?” he leaned in, pulling a face. “I couldn’t hear you.”

“Please—”

“Please, what?” he snapped.

“Please, sir,” you grunted. “May I eat?”

“Of course you can!” his face broke out into an exaggerated grin. “All you had to do was ask!”

Simon tossed the sandwich at you, and you barely caught it before it hit the floor. With a pleased smirk, he leant back and began to close the door.

He halted his actions as another man appeared at his side. You moved quietly to get a better look, and had to smother your anger at seeing Dwight.

“Negan back yet?” Dwight asked Simon, paying no attention to your prone form.

“Yeah, got back about an hour ago. The men are doing inventory and he’s probably doing one of his wives,” Simon snorted. Dwight tried to hide his flinch at the thought of Negan and possibly Sherry together. Simon raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment.

“It can wait, I guess,” he shrugged, tugging on a chain in his hand. “Just wanted to update him on our ‘recruit’ here.” With a sharp pull on the chain, another man stumbled into view, quickly righting himself and staring off into the distance.

Your heart stopped. You should have stayed silent. You should have smothered any feeling that threatened to overcome you. But you still found yourself muttering a disbelieving, “Daryl?”

Your old friend’s eyes flew to yours and he took an automatic step forward, calling your name. You scrambled to meet him halfway. He looked dirty, tired, and beaten. You couldn’t stand to see him like that. You imagined that you must not look any better, but you had little concern for yourself at the moment.

Simon stopped you in your tracks, knocking you back to the floor with a swift kick to your knees. Your pained grunt only angered Daryl, who tried to fight his way to you. Simon only watched eagerly.

If Simon appeared amused, Dwight was anything but. 

“Oh hell no!” he shouted, shoving Daryl to the side and into the unforgiving wall before pointing Daryl’s own crossbow at him. “You don’t fucking move without my permission,” he hissed. 

You wished you could see Daryl, see if he was okay. But Dwight had pushed him out of your sight.

“Back into the damn box,” you heard Dwight command before Simon stepped into your line of sight once more. Your ears were trained on the sound of a restrained Daryl being forced away, even as you met Simon’s pitiless stare.

“You seem to forget,” he shook his head in faux disappointment. “No visitors for you. I’m going to have to tell the boss about this little outburst.”

“Leave Daryl out of this,” you demanded, as if you had any say in the matter.

“Daryl has his own problems,” Simon reminded you with a smirk. “You might want to start worrying about yourself.”

With that last piece of advice, Simon slammed your door shut once more, locking it. 

Left to your devices once again, you sighed heavily and reluctantly bit into your sandwich.

Eventually, with little else to do, you fell asleep.

You awoke slightly at the sound of your lock turning again, unsure how many hours had passed. Struggling to wake completely, you never expected the bucket full of water to be tossed onto your sprawled body. Jolting up with a gasp of shock and shaking from the cold, you saw Simon in the doorway chuckling.

“Wakey, wakey,” he crooned, tossing the bucket he had been twirling his hand to the side as he grabbed you by the arm and forced you to stand. “You’ve got an appointment with the boss.”

You stumbled as he started leading you away, hand still gripping your bicep tightly. The walk to Negan’s quarters was quiet but you could feel your heart start to hammer uncontrollably in your chest.

When you were finally stood outside imposing double doors, Simon took a proper look at you. He didn’t bother to hold back a snort of laughter. “You look like a drowned rat,” he chortled, before knocking once and opening the door.

Simon led you into what had to be Negan’s office. You were taken aback by how lavish it was. Exquisitely carved wooden book shelves lined the walls, laden with treasured hardcovers you hadn’t seen the like of in years. The Sanctuary was positively sparse, and apparently Negan horded much of the luxuries for himself. That came as little surprise.

Your eyes landed on a ornate, solid oak desk, and the man at it, leaning back in his chair with his dirty boots propped up on the edge.

Negan grinned, delighted by your presence, and he nodded to Simon. “Go get something to drink, man,” he chuckled, “We’ll be just fine, won’t we darlin’?” You just eyed him blankly.

Simon took his leave, closing the door behind him. You were left standing in the center of the office, wet and shivering. Negan shook his head in amusement at your bedraggled self. 

“Have a seat,” he gestured to the seat in front of his desk, and you gingerly sat down. He kicked his feet off the desk, and they landed on the floor with a thud as he leaned in close. “I hear you had an interesting day, sweetheart.”

“What are you doing to him?” you asked bluntly, not willing to play his games. Negan was no friend of yours.

“Your buddy Daryl?” he clarified, rolling his eyes. “He’s going through some obedience training. He tried to fucking run from me, I can't let that shit stand. He’ll make one hell of a fucking soldier one day. But first we’ve got to break him down.” 

“How’s that going?” you knew you shouldn’t push him, but you had seen yourself how much of Daryl truly remained. 

“He’s a stubborn little shit,” Negan acknowledged, eyeing you intriguingly. “But it’s only a matter of time. You, Daryl, Rick…you all think you’re so fucking strong. But I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, you ain’t stronger than me.” He gave you a shit-eating grin.

“But do keep fighting me, doll,” he continued with a wink. “I fucking love a challenge.”

You said nothing, just crossed your arms and hugged yourself tightly.

Negan’s smile never faltered as he stood, walking past you and towards a chest across the room. You watched him anxiously. You were surprised when he retrieved a blanket and returned to your side, draping it over your shoulders.

You tucked it around your body wordlessly and he bent at the knees so he was at eye level. His hands fell onto your shoulders and your entire body tensed. You didn’t know what to expect, him to shake or threaten you maybe, but instead he just let his hands move up and down your arms, warming you.

Daring to look him in the eye, you mentally cursed him for looking so caring, so charming at that moment. His eyes were bright, his lips pulled into a soft grin. He almost looked—kind. 

“You cold, darlin’?” he asked gently, shaking his head in bemusement. “Simon does love a dramatic entrance,” he recalled as you thought back to your wake up call and shuddered. 

“Do you know how long you’ve been down there, in that fucking hellhole?” he murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Almost three weeks,” he admitted, and you blinked in disbelief. Three weeks? Dear god, you really had lost track of time in the mind-numbing darkness. “Let me tell you, doll, that’s pretty fucking incredible.”

His hands stopped trailing up and down your arms, and instead rested on your shoulders, his thumbs idly rubbing circles. 

“I don’t enjoy hurting women,” he said, and your face must have given you away. He gave you a half smile, “Men I could kill all fucking day,” he amended, “doesn’t mean I won’t kill a woman, but I don’t like it.”

“Is this where I say thank you?” you whispered in incredulously. “Olivia is dead—.”

“And whose fucking fault is that, sweetheart?” Negan reminded you with a raised brow. “Now this is where you shut the fuck up and listen.” His voice was soft and low, but his words had you on edge.

“You’ve been locked up in that box for weeks,” he grinned disparagingly. “Listening to Dwight’s fucking music, never seeing the goddamn sun, eating whatever shit Simon gives you every few days, and laying in your own fucking filth. And the way I hear it, you haven’t cried or begged, you’ve just taken it like a fucking champ. That’s fucking impressive.”

He seemed almost proud of you, and a sick part of you felt gratified.

“You’re kind of a badass,” he laughed, eyeing you appreciatively, “and pretty hot when you don’t look like you crawled out of a fucking sewer.” Your lips pursed at his last comment, and he gave you a playful wink. 

“Now, you’re not going back to Alexandria,” he revealed, and you looked down in disappointment. “You’re not getting another chance to fucking kill me, that’s for fucking sure. Question is what should I do with you?” 

Negan stood to his full height, and licked your lips nervously. He ran a hand over his graying beard and looked you up and down. 

“I can’t leave you with my men or my guns,” he considered. “Too much temptation all around. And I can’t let you run around unsupervised, working for fucking points. We haven’t established that kind of trust, have we?”

You tightened the blanket around you, feeling especially vulnerable.

“So you’ve got two options, sweetheart,” he concluded with a wolfish smile. “You can stay in that fucking box until you beg to be let out. Until it drives you so goddamn nuts you’ll do anything to get out.” You swallowed reflexively and your hands curled into fists. “Or you can marry me.”

Your head spun so fast it made you dizzy, but Negan’s smug grin never wavered.

“You can have your freedom back,” he offered enticingly. “A hot shower, new clothes…you won’t have to lift a fucking finger. You’ll be treated like a queen.” He hovered over you and you tried hard not to let him know how intimidated you felt. 

Feeling his hand on your elbow, you allowed him to pull you up from the chair. Now standing before him, he still managed to tower over you. His fingers brushed your cheek before slipping underneath your chin and bringing your eyes to his.

“Make a choice, doll,” his voice rumbled invitingly. “You can crawl back into that fucking box until it drives you fucking crazy. Or,” he ran a hand through the tangled mess of your hair, smoothing it out, “you can say yes to me. A warm bed is fucking waiting for you, doll. You just have to tell me who you belong to…” 

You never broke his stare, considering your options carefully. Your mind kept going back to Daryl, to Olivia’s body laid out on the porch and the devastation on Carl’s face, to how broken Rick looked these days, and you had your answer.

“I’ll take the box.”

Negan’s smile lost a bit of its arrogance, and his hands left your face. “Stupid fucking choice, sweetheart,” he ridiculed you as he took you by the arm and led you to the door.

Simon was waiting outside, and he pushed off the wall he was leaning against with a curious expression. 

“Put her back in the fucking hole,” Negan ordered gruffly, giving you a rough push toward Simon. He nodded and Negan turned on his heel and slammed his office door behind him. 

Simon studied you, bemused. You just stared at the floor defiantly. “I tried to warn you, kid. Being a pain in the ass isn’t going to help you any.” 

You shrugged and let him lead you away. You weren’t looking for any help from Negan anyway.


End file.
